Disgrace and Desire. Sarah Mallory

      Praise for Sarah Mallory:

      

      ‘Sarah Mallory’s name

      is set to become a favourite with readers of historical romantic fiction the world over!’

      —Cataromance

      ‘MORE THAN A GOVERNESS is a richly woven tale

      of passion, intrigue and suspense that deserves a place on your keeper shelf!’

      —Cataromance

       ‘You know what people are saying about you and Mortimer?’

      She recoiled a little.

      

      ‘I neither know nor care,’ she retorted.

      

      ‘I would not have you dishonour your husband’s name, madam.’

      

      Her eyes darkened angrily.

      

      ‘How dare you suggest I would do that?’

      

      Her eyes darted fire, and she moved forward as if to engage with him. Jack could not look away: his gaze was locked with hers and he felt as if he was drowning in the blue depths of her eyes. She was so close that her perfume filled his head, suspending reason. A sudden, fierce desire coursed through him. He reached out and grabbed her, pulling her close, and as her lips parted to object he captured them with his own. He felt her tremble in his arms, then she was still, her mouth yielding and compliant beneath the onslaught of his kiss.

      Disgrace and Desire

      Sarah Mallory

      

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Author Note

      Every book is special to its author, and DISGRACE AND DESIRE is no exception. It is the story of exceptional friendship and loyalty as well as love.

      

      Eloise’s childhood friend Alex sums her up perfectly when he says of her, ‘She was loyal to a fault, and often took the blame for our pranks…She spent most of her time rescuing us from our more outlandish scrapes.’

      

      This was the premise for my story of a widow who is so fiercely loyal to the memory of her husband that she will go to almost any lengths to protect his good name, even risking her own reputation. She is aptly named, too, after Heloise, the lover of Peter Abelard and a woman revered for her fidelity and piety.

      

      I wanted a very special hero to complement my heroine, and Major Jack Clifton came striding onto the scene. Darkly handsome, an honourable soldier and intensely chivalrous, Jack comes from the bloody battlefield of Waterloo to the glittering ballrooms of London to fulfil a promise made to a dying colleague, and he finds Lady Allyngham is not the shy, retiring widow he was expecting! He is captivated by her beauty but increasingly intrigued by her behaviour: is her reputation as a wicked flirt merely a façade?

      

      Eloise discovers that she is attracted to the dashing Major in a way she has never experienced before, and she is torn between her new love and old loyalties. She doesn’t want Jack to think badly of her, and she needs his help, yet she is not prepared to confess to him her secrets—secrets that she says are not hers to share.

      

      Eloise needs to protect the reputation of her friend and the good name of Allyngham, and also defeat the villain who threatens to expose her before she can even consider winning Jack’s love. It’s a tall order, but this is, after all, a romance, so there must be a way. I hope you enjoy her story.

      About the Author

      SARAH MALLORY was born in Bristol, and now lives in an old farmhouse on the edge of the Pennines with her husband and family. She left grammar school at sixteen, to work in companies as varied as stockbrokers, marine engineers, insurance brokers, biscuit manufacturers and even a quarrying company. Her first book was published shortly after the birth of her daughter. She has published more than a dozen books under the pen-name of Melinda Hammond, winning the Reviewers’ Choice Award in 2005 from Singletitles.com for Dance for a Diamond and the Historical Novel Society’s Editors’ Choice in November 2006 for Gentlemen in Question.

       Recent novels by the same author:

      THE WICKED BARON MORE THAN A GOVERNESS (part of On Mothering Sunday) WICKED CAPTAIN, WAYWARD WIFE THE EARL’S RUNAWAY BRIDE

       For Dave, Roger and Norman, my very first heroes!

      Prologue

      Major Jack Clifton dragged one grimy sleeve across his brow. The battle had been raging all day near the little village of Waterloo. The tall fields of rye grass had been trampled into the ground as wave after wave of cavalry charged the British squares between bouts of deadly artillery fire. A smoky grey cloud hung over the battlefield and the bright colours of the uniforms were muted by a thick film of dust and mud.

      ‘Look,’ said his sergeant, pointing to the far ridge. ‘That’s Bonaparte up there!’

      A nervous murmur ran through the square.

      ‘Aye,’ Jack countered cheerfully. ‘And Wellington’s behind us, watching our every move.’

      ‘So ’e is,’ grinned the sergeant. ‘Well, then, let’s show the Duke we ain’t afraid of those Frenchies.’

      Another cavalry charge came thundering towards them, only to fall back in a welter of mud, blood and confusion. Jack rallied his men, knowing that as long as he stayed calm the square would hold. A sudden flurry of activity caught his attention and a party of soldiers approached him, carrying someone in a blanket.

      ‘Lord Allyngham, Major,’ called one of the men as they laid their burden on the ground. ‘Took a cannonball in his shoulder. He was asking for you.’

      The bloodied figure on the blanket raised his hand.

      ‘Clifton. Is he here?’

      Jack dropped on one knee beside him. He averted his eyes from the shattered shoulder.

      ‘I’m here, my lord.’

      ‘Can’t—see—you.’

      Jack took the raised hand.

      ‘I’m here, Tony.’

      His calm words seemed to reassure Lord Allyngham.

      ‘Letters,’ he muttered. ‘In my jacket. Will you see they are sent back to England, Jack? One for my wife, one for Mortimer, my…neighbour. Important…that they get them.’

      ‘Of course. I’ll make sure they are sent tonight with the despatches.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      Jack glanced up at the sergeant.

      ‘Take him back, Robert, and get a surgeon—’

      ‘No.’ The grip on his hand suddenly tightened. ‘No point: I know I’m done for.’

      ‘Nonsense,’ growled Jack. ‘We’ll have the sawbones patch you up—’

      The glazed eyes seemed to clear and gain focus as he looked at Jack.

      ‘Not enough left to patch,’ he gasped. ‘No, Jack, listen to me! One more thing—do I still have my hand?’

      Jack